


Should someone mention Belfast

by arlesanna



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlesanna/pseuds/arlesanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stella's last night in Belfast holds new promises when she meets Eastwood in a bar. But will he deliver? Or will it turn out to be more then Stella bargained for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should someone mention Belfast

 

The chatter in the bar was loud, people were watching football and their occasional cheers and moans of disappointment made for a nice background. A normal one. Ordinary. Stella often forgot how much ordinary things like that mattered in the middle of all the crazy her job offered none too graciously. She sipped her whiskey and breathed in the stuffy air of the bar forcefully. Yes, this was Belfast. The cold winds, the chilly charm, the restrained luxury of her hoter, the stuffy bar. That’s what she had to remember, to take away with her like a sealed treasure, so that should someone mention Belfast to her those memories are what comes to mind. That air. Those smells. That football game in the backround. Not the serial killer just outside your window, a killer who could easily be your colleague, your friend, your husband, your father. Not him. Let the memories be the bar, the wind, the hotel. The people.

Stella smiled a little as Dani came to her mind. Yes, people. Dani, zealous and cheerful and harboring a secret crush on her. Burns, annoying in a familiar way, in a way only the people who are part of your life for good are. Tanya, warm and mysterious, easy to confide in. Rose, brave, so strong and so fragile. James Olson, Tom Anderson. She had met a great deal of complex and beautiful people on this trip. Another small smile: Eastwood. Learning to read his looks and smirks. Learning that they didn't always mean what she thought they did. It was nice... Refreshing.

“Do you mean to be drinking away your last night here alone or did it just happen that way?”

Stella didn’t have to look up to recognize that voice. She greeted Eastwood with a hint of a smile, “The latter.”

His eyes crinkled in a certain way she could now recognize as a clue to him being conent with her answer.

“Do you still have surveillance on me or did you just happen to be here?” she asked as he settled down on a bar stool next to hers.

“The latter.” He smiled at her and ordered a whiskey for himself. “Though I wish I could say the former.”

“Why?”

A long moment passed before he looked her sraight in the eye. “Because then I’d be able to say I followed you here on purpose.”

Stella decided against asking another “why” and settled for raising her eyebrows at him instead.

“Because then I’d be able to say I wanted to have a drink with you. Just us. In a bar. Without any agenda or a killer to catch.”

A short laugh escaped her lips. “But you just happened to be here instead.”

“Yes. But I do want to have that drink with you.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Stella watched him take a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. He looked tired to her, but peaceful. The look must mirror hers now. And she couldn’t deny being a little happy to be in his company. Even if they were drinking in silence together, the silence was comfortable and warm, filled with shared looks and smiles, a new kind of silence in Belfast for her. She should remember this too.

“When is your plane leaving?” he asked, looking at her thoughfully.

“In the morning.” She stared back at him and felt the air around them shift as his gaze turned intense. Stella analyzed the possibilities immediately. He wanted her. He was not her type and he was not exactly a friend. He was friendly. They were friendly. She wanted him, probably… no, surely, judging by the way her lips fet instantly dry. She refrained from licking them in that exact moment, her posture relaxed, her gaze glued to his, the time coming to a halt around them. She had time until the morning. Tonight was going to turn out exiting.

He interrupted the oncoming storm between them with an innocent “Have you seen any of Belfast?” and smiled cheekily, as if knowing what she was thinking.

Next thing she knew they were leaving the bar.

* * *

 

“Seems very fitting that I should see the sights in the middle of the night, like a thief looking for prey.” She mused as they were walking along Belfast City Hall.

“Are you?”

She looked up a him only to find the already familiar smirk firmly in place.“Always” she teased back and he laughed. Openly, sincerely and she joined in, their voices breaking the silence of the dark square around them. Then his hand in a black leather glove was outstreched towards her. Stella took it without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

“Here we are.” They stopped in front of her hotel and Stella led in with a phrase that was universal in any language on any continent. “Care for another drink?”

“I’d say I care about this…” Eastwood raised their joint hands a bit, “more then I care about having another drink.”

“I see.” Stella hated a rejection in whatever form it came. She couldn’t help but look at him incredulously, unbelieveing in his resolve. That caused another amused smile.

“I would like to ask you to dinner.” Her eyes widened in surprise at that. He knew she was leaving tomorrow, there was certainly no room for dinner. “This Saturday. In Lodnon.” He elaborated and she felt trapped.

“I… I think I don’t have any plans for Saturday evening just yet.” Stella managed, trying to figure out how it would work and if he would go to London only for her sake and if she even wanted to have dinner with him. In Lodnon. At home. That way he could become more then a memory from Belfast, but the question was did she want him to be more?

Eastwood shifted as if reading her mind and added: “How about you figure out your… schedule and let me know over the next couple of days?” He was letting her off the hook. Did she want to be let off the hook? Stella knew it was just a dinner after all. A dinner with someone she respected, someone whose hand she was now holding, a rare ocurrence in any city for her and not a memory she could recall too often from her past. He went on: “But have no doubt that I would love to have that drink with you now.” a charming smile was coming her way bringing with it a heat wave washing over her in the middle of the bleak Belfast night.

“But you won’t?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He leant into her, his scent enveloping her like a cozy blanket. “Because I’m not ready for you to be done with me just yet.” His lips brushed her cheek and then it was all gone: his scent, the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the warmth of his hand around hers, the warmth of his general sarcastic presence.

Stella Gibson entered her hotel for the last time that night, knowing for sure that she will have no problem with just the right memories coming to her mind should someone ever mention Belfast.


End file.
